The Girl in the Tower
by ElizabethDeWitt
Summary: (AU) Elizabeth's story and thoughts on the floating air-city of Columbia as told through her eyes. Rated M for future content. Read Author's Note inside before continuing!
1. Chapter 1: A Song from the Lamb

**Author's Note: Hello fellow Infinite fans! As a devoted fan of the Bioshock series and a worshiper of all things related to the Bioshock mythos, canon and non-canon, I am proud to publish my very first Infinite fanfic! I'm actually new on the site but I have been here before, meaning I've read other fanfics from other fandoms, primarily Bioshock and Portal related. I consider myself a nerd of the gaming world and am also a proud Whovian! :D Anyway, before you embark on your journey through the world of Columbia, I will tell my readers that this story is canon and non-canon to the Bioshock universe, meaning there will be references from the game (this is your spoiler warning!), as well as some elements (OCs, ships, feels, and lemons etc.) that I've added for dramatic effect. However, I'm not entirely sure whether I should change the relationship between Booker and Elizabeth, as they are father and daughter, which was confirmed in-game. Personally, I've always liked the idea that Booker and Elizabeth are lovers (if they weren't biologically related to each other). However, the idea of them being romantically involved, before, during, or after the initial events of the game, now seems awkward and just plain incestuous (unless you're the kind of person who's into that sort of thing). For my sake, as well for the sake and sanity of my readers, I will change the relationship between Booker and Elizabeth to a more romantic and sexual one (unrelated to each other), unless you want me to keep it canon. Please leave a review and let me know what you think! Suggestions are much appreciated! :) **

_**Disclaimer and Spoiler Warning (Again): Just as a brief reminder to my readers, there will be many references, or spoilers, from both Bioshock and Bioshock Infinite! You have been warned! Read description first before continuing! Thanks and enjoy! :D **_

_**P.S. If there is an inaccuracy, please bring it to my attention!**_

_**All Bioshock & Bioshock Infinite characters are all property of Irrational Games and Ken Levine, except for any OCs that I create myself.**_

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_Chapter One: A Song from the Lamb_

Aunt Rose spoke of charming princes and brave knights when I was a little girl, hiding under the bed sheets each night. I can remember the way the wind howled and blew around the exterior of my tower, my home, my indestructible prison, my lonely cage. I can remember gazing out the window with a glimmer of wonderment and curiosity in my eye, watching in amazement how the moon seemed so close to the Earth, and how its soft pallor and bright glow illuminated like a bulb, setting the stars around it ablaze. It was as if the sky was on fire! I would ask Aunt Rose why this was, and her only answer would be a couple of books on quantum physics and astronomy. I did ask her many questions about the sciences and nature, and why large boat-like air vessels traveled through the sky without falling to the Earth below. I was surprised by how it all worked, and how the answers to all my questions could be in the books I read. Each Christmas it would be the same, the same gifts she would give me. First, it was Sir Isaac Newton's works on Calculus, and then Galileo Galilei's studies on the geocentric theory. I never grew tired of reading, however, as it was my only form of escapism. My books, my studies, and my knowledge were my true and only companions. Isolation wasn't a word I found in the dictionary. I thought the tower was my world, was the entire universe in my hands, at the tips of my fingers. "Safety," Aunt Rose would say quietly before bed, "Safety from the Sodom below." I never understood those words, but I don't think she ever intended for me to understand them. When I closed my eyes, she sang a tune, a tune that she said my mother would sing to me when I was a baby, before she died of typhoid. Aunt Rose's voice was as smooth as the clouds that graced the heavenly skies, and as slow as the floats that would pass my tower window each July 6th, which was the annual Raffle.

_Will the circle be unbroken,_

_By and by, by and by?_

_Is a better home awaiting, _

_In the sky, in the sky? _

I looked out the tower window once more and saw the moon rising slowly over the same place; it seemed to have looked smaller in size now. I asked her softly, puzzled, "Why does the moon look bigger, but always stays in the same place?

"Oh, darling Elizabeth," said Aunt Rose with a chuckle and a smile before leaving me alone to sleep in my room, "constants and variables."

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_**Author's Note: **_This concludes chapter one of "The Girl in the Tower." Thanks for reading! Please stay tuned for chapter two and don't forget to leave your reviews! Any suggestions for future chapters are much encouraged! Thanks again! :)


	2. Chapter 2: One Tear at a Time

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for your reviews on the first chapter! Woohoo! :D And as suggested by Lone Reaper-068, I will keep Booker and Elizabeth unrelated, so expect some lemony goodness in future chapters! ;) Please leave a review and any ideas for later chapters! Thank you again and enjoy! :)**

**P.S. I think having Elizabeth treat Rosalind as if she were her aunt gives Rosalind some humanity and care for Elizabeth's well-being, even though she's treated like a human lab rat as part of some sick and twisted science experiment.**

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_Chapter Two: One Tear at a Time_

"Do you see those, Elizabeth?" Aunt Rose pointed to one of the cargo ships flying pass my tower window, clutching me by my sides as I attempted to reach out for it, "How many are there?"

My tongue glued itself to the roof of my mouth as I pondered her question. I glanced down at the fingers of my right hand, counting each one until I stopped at my pinkie, "Four and a half, Aunt Rose!" She giggled at my response.

"Four and a half?" I simply nodded and brought her attention to the cargo ship that floated gracefully through the cloudless skies of Columbia. She let out a small gasp and raised a brow as she noticed that only half of the ship was visible from behind one of the others.

I laughed and said, "Where's the other half?"

She fell silent.

A chorus of sudden screams and cries for help then followed, but I didn't understand why. I attempted to reach out once more, wriggling out of Aunt Rose's lazy grasp. I peeked out a moment and saw the cargo ship falling in flames from the sky and into the abyss below.

I screamed and cried, running back into her arms. She shielded me, placing her shaking hands over my ears, protecting me from the terror that was unraveling just outside my tower window.

A week soon passed since the accident. I inquired Aunt Rose of what happened that day, but she would quickly shy away from the topic and divert my attention to the phonograph that played the most peculiar tunes. I hopped off of her lap and walked to the book shelf, picking up _The Principles of Quantum Mechanics_, one of her published works, as well as one of my personal reads. I returned to where she sat as she quietly watched me with steady but worried eyes. I then smiled shyly and said, "Read to me, Aunt Rose." She reciprocated the warm expression, but I could see in her eyes that only fear and concern filled her thoughts at that moment. The night seemed to have whirled by so fast! I suppose I was two engrossed in her reading to pay any attention to the blaring horns of the air boats that flew by at regular intervals right outside my tower window.

Exactly a month after the accident, which many suspected was an air raid from the Vox Populi, Aunt Rose took me to her study, which I had never seen and was located next door to my room. She showed me everything. Her works, her projects, her experiments, her paintings, and even her music! Aunt Rose called it her personal playground, and she would laugh at the way my face lit up with joy every time she brought me there. I called it my castle, my world, my personal wonderland. I was Alice and this was my wonderland.

"Elizabeth, dear," Aunt Rose began, taking my hand and leading me to the back corner of the study. There was a window, but it was closed and appeared to have been boarded up; bits of dust and dirt were evident across its surface, "Can you see that?" She gestured her finger to a small, glistening sliver of light that danced under the window sill.

"Elizabeth, listen," she said, "Do you see that little slit up against the wall?" She lead my attention to where she pointed. My eyes widened and I gasped, extending my fingers outward toward the opening. She stopped me and took my hand in hers, whispering and looking deep into my eyes, making sure I was still in reality, "Open it. Open it, Elizabeth." I raised a brow in confusion, not sure what she meant.

"Open what?" I asked.

"Open that. Open the tear."

"Tear? What do you mean, Aunt Rose?"

"Exactly what I mean." Her serious expression beckoned me to listen.

I turned to the small tear, extending both my hands out in front of me. I stood straight and closed my eyes, taking a quick breath and feeling the upbeat pace of my heart. I could feel the blood rush to the tips of my fingers as I opened my arms outward, like a bird spreading its wings and getting ready to fly away freely into the sky.

"Oh, Elizabeth!" I could hear the smile on Aunt Rose's voice. My arms began to shake but she held them still carefully, "Open your eyes, dear. Slowly, now. Come on." Once I did, I wish I could have kept them close. Her expression was that of surprise, shock, and triumph. She was elated.

I was in Columbia.

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_**Author's Note:** _This concludes chapter two of "The Girl in the Tower." Thanks so much for reading! I hope you all enjoyed this one as much as I enjoyed writing it! :D Please stay tuned for the next chapter! Don't forget to leave me your thoughts, and favorite and follow if you want to read more! :) Thanks so much again! I'll see you all again soon!


	3. Chapter 3: One of a Kind

**Author's Note: Hey guys, welcome to chapter three of "The Girl in the Tower"! I hope you all enjoyed reading the last two chapters! And for those of you who might be thinking, "Now where in the world is Booker DeWitt?" We all know that Infinite is not complete without the one and only Booker DeWitt! Well, not to worry, he'll be introduced in the next couple of chapters! :D Please review, follow, favorite, and enjoy! :)**

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_Chapter Three: One of a Kind_

I was in Columbia Square, standing in between my room and the outside world. It was a gateway to reality, to civilization, a portal to freedom, my great escape.

My _last _hope...

"Isn't it amazing?" Aunt Rose exclaimed, keeping my arms spread out like an eagle's mighty wings.

"Where am I, Aunt Rose...?" I asked, feeling more frightened than mesmerized by this new-found power.

She chuckled quietly, "It's Columbia, of course! Dear, look all around you..."

I kept my arms as wide as possible, opening the tear further, "It's..."

"Beautiful?"

I slowly nodded as the fear of losing control was now paralyzing my arms, "Mmhm."

"You are special, Elizabeth. So very special indeed. In fact, you are a one of a kind."

I shut my eyes, feeling a trickle of heat run up and down my arms as they started to ache, "Can I..."

"Close it? Only if you are ready, dear."

With a sharp inward movement of my arms, I snapped the tear shut, the force of it pulling me back and pushing me down to the floor. She then helped me to my feet, taking both my hands in hers. She rubbed and pressed them softly in-between her palms.

"What was that, Aunt Rose?" I finally asked, feeling secure in her warm and close embrace.

"It's a gift, Elizabeth. _Your _gift."

"But what was _it?_"

She propped me onto a chair near by and turned it towards herself. Her expression changed from that of joy to now one of seriousness and scrutiny, "Tell me, Elizabeth. What do you _think _that was?"

"You said it was... was... a tear...?"

"Yes. Exactly, Elizabeth. It's a tear. A tear in our world, our reality."

I fell silent, not sure how to respond.

She frowned, "It's a door to another point in time! Think of it as a gateway to another universe, another dimension, just like what I've read to you. Remember?" She took a book from the table next to her, handing it to me. It was one of her other works, _Barriers to Trans-Dimensional Travel, _"This explains everything. Or most things."

"A tear to another world? Not just here?"

"No, not just here. Everywhere, Elizabeth. _Anywhere. _There are tears all around and can be seen with the naked eye. You can find them, but you can make them too."

My eyes widened at the thought. Creating your own tears? That had to be impossible, but now the impossible was no longer impossible. Only possible was acceptable now.

"It's an unique ability that no else has but you."

I took the book from her hands and skimmed through the pages, "But how...? How do you know that, Aunt Rose?"

"Because I just do, dear. I just do."

I'm not sure if I had taken her word for it, but I was very eager to exercise my "gift," and possibly use it to my advantage, but even this new power had its limits.

Day after day, I would experiment with these _tears _and open ones that I would find hiding behind tables, curtains, and shelves. I unraveled a tear to other parts of Columbia and even strange lands of grass and cattle from below. One night, I snuck into the library and grabbed an atlas from one of the shelves. It was the map and geography of Paris, France. I spent the entire night reading about it as I had myself squeezed tightly into the back corner of the room between a shelf and a table. I found myself deeply immersed into the rich history of "the City of Love," or "the City of Lights" as some call it. The photos, the illustrations, and the flowery descriptions captured my ever-growing thirst for knowledge and enrichment. My imagination soared to new heights as I began to fantasize about opening a tear to Paris. Oh, Paris! I then remembered what Aunt Rose told me that day when I discovered my ability to open tears, _"...There are tears all around and can be seen with the naked eye. You can find them, but you can make them too." _I can open tears and _create _them. I wasn't sure how I could though, since opening them was a lot easier than actually creating them. I did ask Aunt Rose one day how I could. Strangely, she didn't have an answer for me. There were no tears to Paris, only ones that already exist. I started to wonder, though, if I could create a tear as if I were opening one.

The day came when Aunt Rose had to leave me alone for a while, but while she gave no explanation other than running important errands, I stuck on the assumption that maybe it was for personal reasons, or as I hoped. I did take advantage of the time I was given to be alone. I still dreamed of going to Paris, reveling in the sights of the beautiful city in person. I knew I couldn't, but only if I tried...

The first attempt was tiring. Extending my arms out in front of me and closing my eyes, pretending I was opening a pair of curtains or a window. Second attempt, and I nearly snapped my arms back. Third attempt, but to no avail. Fourth attempt, my last try.

It happened so fast, seemingly lasting for a single second before disappearing into thin air. Did I do it, I thought. Did I finally open a tear to Paris? I tried once more.

"Take me to Paris! I shouted, and I opened my eyes.

"Elizabeth, dear?"

I gasped and turned around. Aunt Rose nearly dropped the bag she was holding in her hand.

"Elizabeth?!" She screamed, her mouth agape and her eyes as wide as my outstretched arms. All the blood drained from her face, her skin as pale as clouds.

I spin around to see the most impossible sight.

There I was... In Paris... In Paris indeed.

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_**Author's Note:** _This concludes chapter three of "The Girl in the Tower," and we're finally introduced to Elizabeth's ability to open and create tears. Thanks so much for reading, and don't forget to review, follow, and favorite! Thanks again! :)


	4. Chapter 4: Tea and Cookies

**Author's Note: Enjoying the story so far? Well, if so, you are in for a treat! :D That's right, chapter four! Don't forget to review, follow, and most importantly, favorite! Thanks so much for your support! It is much appreciated! Enjoy! :)**

**P.S. I am aware that I haven't introduced Robert Lutece yet, but he will appear in the next chapter! **

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_Chapter Four: Tea and Cookies_

The Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe, the Basilica de Sacre Coeur, and the Notre Dame Cathedral were all just a single step away from where I stood between my world and the city of Paris. The tear, wide open, beckoned me to step through it. Aunt Rose was as still as a statue, her face a frozen mask of shock and awe. She stood in front of me and the tear for what felt like several minutes, in silence. No words, no movement, nothing. Not a single thing. I could tell she was more petrified than proud of my achievement, as I didn't expect her to forgive me for what I had done. But I wasn't going to just stand there and watch her stare any longer. I broke the silence and said, "I opened a tear to Paris. You said I could make them and not just find them."

Only silence followed, again.

"Aunt Rose, what's wrong?" I finally asked, now worried for her sanity.

Her eyes switched from the tear to me and from me to the tear, for several seconds, "Elizabeth... How... H-how could you...?"

I frowned, suddenly feeling a wave of guilt run through me in droves, "...I-I'm sorry, Aunt Rose... I-I..." Warm tears began to swim in my eyes, threatening to escape, "B-but... Aunt R-Rose..." My voice kept cracking, my stuttering making me sound less coherent. I quickly covered my shame with my hands, a lone tear running down my flushed cheek.

"No... No, dear. Come here now, shhhh... Don't feel sorry, dear. Shhhh, that's right. I'm here." Aunt Rose took me into her arms, embracing me with as much comfort and assurance as possible. I found it strange. I expected her to scold me, punish me and lock me away in my room for days on end, as she had been for the last seven years. I was just eight years old.

"Aunt Rose?" I asked.

"Yes, dear?" She pulled away from me for a brief moment and looked back at the tear that was still opened wide.

"I want to go to Paris," I whispered quietly, giggling and smiling. She returned the smile, taking me by the hand and leading me toward the open tear.

"Can you keep that open, Elizabeth?"

"Yes." I nodded slightly, reaching my hand out and making sure I still had control over it.

"Good girl." She quietly examined the tear, studying it from all angles and positions. She then took out a small notepad from behind her jacket and jotted down a few things that I couldn't point out from where I was standing.

A quick knock at the door then startled us both. I started to panic a little.

Aunt Rose gave me the "shhhh" signal with a finger to her lips, and called after the knock, "Yes, may I ask who it is?"

"May we speak in private, Miss Lutece?" It seemed like she had recognized who it was judging by her changed expression.

"Yes, right away. Stay here, dear. I will be back shortly," and then she whispered, "Keep that open." I nodded.

I kept the tear open as she hastily sauntered toward the door, opening it slightly and then slipping through it. I was left alone now.

A few minutes passed and she returned, "Elizabeth?" she then asked.

"Yes, Aunt Rose?"

"May you join me for some tea and cookies in the library?"

My eyes grew in excitement, a wide grin spreading across my lips, "Oh, yes!"

She extended a hand toward me. I quickly, but reluctantly, closed the tear, leaving Paris behind for a while. I then took her hand, letting her lead me to the library.

She laid out a picnic blanket across the floor and placed atop it a bamboo basket full of handpicked fruit, two porcelain tea cups, a kettle of hot and freshly-brewed tea, and a china plate of multicolored frosted cookies. I reached out for the first cookie that stood out from the pile. A sugar cookie with red and yellow frosting in the design of a daisy. Aunt Rose took one that had a coin design with white and grey frosting. It was heads.

I bit into it, savoring the sweet and soft texture of the cookie with each bite, slowly and lazily. She filled a cup with tea and passed it to me. She then filled her own cup and dipped the cookie into the hot liquid.

After the first cookie, I went for my second and grabbed one that had a bird design this time with pink and blue frosting. After five minutes of cookie-eating and tea-drinking, Aunt Rose broke the silence, "Did I ever tell you about my _secret_ project?"

I shook my head, too occupied with my loud chewing and crunching.

"Well," she grinned, "can you keep a secret, Elizabeth?"

I swallowed hard, nearly choking on a piece of cookie, "I promise. Cross my heart, Aunt Rose."

"Good girl." She said, taking a quick sip of her tea.

"What's the secret, Aunt Rose?" I leaned over to snatch another cookie from the plate, but my hand was caught in Aunt Rose's grip.

"Tomorrow morning, I'll take you to my lab."

"You mean your playground?"

"No, my lab. It's a different room. A bigger room. You will see, dear."

I grinned widely at the thought. She then let go of my hand, allowing me to treat myself to one more cookie. This one was an oddly familiar one, one with black and silver frosting. It had a cage design.

"Oh, darling, you made a mess out of your self! Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?" Aunt Rose exclaimed, gesturing toward the crumbs that speckled my dress and face. She picked up the empty plate, tea cups, kettle, and the untouched fruit basket, but managed to sneak a pear behind her coat. I went to my room and readied myself for bed. As per usual, she read me another chapter from _The Principles of Quantum Mechanics _and a short passage from _Barriers to Trans-Dimensional Travel _that further explained the creation and opening of tears. As sleep slowly crept in, I felt a lingering smile on my lips. She stopped reading as soon as I closed my eyes. She then planted a soft kiss atop my forehead, whispering sweetly into my ear, "Goodnight, dear Elizabeth."

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_**Author's Note:** _This concludes chapter four of "The Girl in the Tower"! I hope you all enjoyed reading this one! And I just wanted to note that I'm really fond of where Elizabeth and Rosalind's mother/daughter-like relationship is going. One of my readers pointed out Rosalind's motherly side, and I totally agree! :D Anyway, I hope you're all looking forward to the next chapter! Please review, follow, and favorite! Until next time, seeya! :)


	5. Chapter 5: The Gift

**Author's Note: Welcome to chapter five of "The Girl in the Tower." I'm so glad you've been enjoying it so far! :D Now sit back and enjoy the next chapter of our story. :) Please review, follow, and favorite! Thanks! **

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_Chapter Five: The Gift_

I woke up to the sweet smell of corn muffins and warm maple syrup in the morning. I then sat up in my bed, still huddled under the two layers of sheets as I reached out for Aunt Rose, who was sitting on the edge of the bed with a full tray of food in her hands.

"Wake up, darling. You mustn't be late for your breakfast," she smiled warmly, placing the seemingly heavy tray on my lap.

"Breakfast in bed?" I asked, grinning and staring at the food with wide eyes.

"A full English breakfast. Your uncle's favorite," she said, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face and tucking it behind my ear.

I raised a brow, realizing that I had never been told that I had an uncle, "My uncle?"

"Oh, yes. Your uncle. Uncle Robert."

"Your husband?"

"More like my brother, I'm afraid." She smirked, rolling her eyes playfully.

"Really?"

"You will see him soon, dear. When I take you to the lab. Eat up now, we mustn't make him impatient, yes?"

I nodded and examined the colorful variety of food that was placed neatly atop the tray that sat before me. A full English breakfast that was complete with two poached eggs, slices of ham, fried potatoes, toast, and baked beans with a small, warm cup of freshly-brewed tea. I grabbed the piece of toast to start, taking a deep bite into it, and then finished with the tea to wash it all down.

After breakfast, I cleaned and dressed for the day's occasion, which was to meet this uncle of mine as well as to get a special peek of Aunt Rose's "secret" project. I came to many possible guesses as to what this project was, or why it was so secret to begin with. I couldn't exactly put my finger on it.

"Ready, Elizabeth? Aunt Rose called after me. I could hear the loud and impatient tapping of her foot against the cedar floor.

"I'm coming, Aunt Rose! Wait for me!" I giggled and danced out of the dressing room wearing a brightly colored dress with white lace trimmings at the hem of it.

Aunt Rose bent down to my height to take my hand in hers, smiling, "You are stunning, dear. Come on now." We left the dressing room and made our way towards the lab.

The tower was a place of many doors, these doors that opened to many rooms. My room, the dressing room, the library, Aunt Rose's study, and the laboratory and many others all comprised the many worlds that the tower was home to. _My _tower.

We now stood at the doors of the laboratory, hand in hand, "We're here."

"What's in there?" I then asked quietly, gently tuggling at her hand.

"You will see, Elizabeth. You will see," she answered, taking a small key from behind her jacket and inserting it into the keyhole that fit it.

The doors then swung open toward us, and before us stood a tall man in a vest, suit and tie. He looked _so _familiar, _oddly _familiar in fact...

He had red hair, which was neatly combed, and blue eyes. Aunt Rose had nearly the same facial features as he. It was if they were identical twins...

_Almost..._

"Well, hello, sister," The strange man said, holding his fist to his chest as if he were holding his tie, "Hmmm, I did not think we'd meet again."

She grinned at his remark, "Well, brother, I did not think _you'd_ be _here._"

He let out a nervous chuckle, taking a slow step forward, "Touché."

His eyes then met mine immediately. He walked toward me and stood there, towering over. He then crouched down so we were at eye level, "My, you _have _grown. I thought Rosalind was merely pulling my leg. Only eight years and so much progress. You _have _done your work, sister," The peculiar man examined me carefully, but was hesitant to touch me. The tip of his index finger lightly brushed my cheek. This odd man Aunt Rose referred to as _brother_ was beginning to feel a bit... fishy now.

"I knew you would be interested, or maybe even surprised. I suppose I was right about the latter," Aunt Rose said. _"I suppose I was right about the latter," _almost sounded like a question.

"Are you in doubt?" The man then asked, his voice taking on a mocking tone.

She rolled her eyes in annoyance, crossing her arms over her small chest, "In doubt about what?"

"You are doubting my interest in this whole thing."

"I know how you are with Comstock, brother."

"I know how you are about _her, _sister. This was your idea. Your idea to get yourself into this. No, correction, _us._"

She quickly nudged his shoulder with her elbow, signaling him to shut it. I didn't understand what they meant, but I simply went with it, clearly unaware and just naive about their conversation. A rather awkward conversation. And who in the world was _Comstock_?

She sighed, taking my hand. Her grip on me was tighter than usual, "Come, dear," she lead me to the corner of the room, which was nearly pitch black expect for the only source of light that the man was standing under. I looked up and saw that the light was coming from a ceiling lamp. It gave the room an eerie and uncomfortable atmosphere.

Aunt Rose then turned on a switch, and with a loud whirring noise coming from all directions, a deluge of lights flicker on simultaneously. I shielded my eyes, nearly becoming blind from all the brightness. I then slowly uncovered them, only to find to my astonishment how _big _the room was! It was wide, extremely spacious, and industrial in appearance. I couldn't believe it!

"Oh, Aunt Rose! It's so... _big!_" I giggled hysterically, running all over the place and wanting to touch everything in sight.

Complex machinery, over-sized Tesla coils, and large pipe-like tubes gave the room a massive structure as well as depth. It was amazing how all of these things were all able to fit into a room of that size. The room was already huge, but these machines made it appear even larger!

"Elizabeth, dear, let me introduce you to your Uncle Robert. My _brother," _She grabbed my hand and turned my attention toward the man that stood in front of me. He smiled, though I wasn't sure if it was a genuine smile or not.

"You must be my _niece. _Elizabeth, I assume," Uncle Robert extended a hand towards me, as if in offer. I hesitantly shook it and went back to holding Aunt Rose's hand, hiding behind the long shirt of her dress.

"She's a shy one, Rosalind," I felt more insecure and possibly frightened than shy.

"A shy one indeed, Robert," she gently squeezed my hand, and I was relieved. A sense of reassurance was all I needed at that moment.

"Heh, this is what Comstock calls _the Miracle Child. _I would say the Shy Child, actually," Uncle Robert quipped, trying to suppress a slight chuckle. _  
_

Aunt Rose couldn't help but giggle quietly at his comment. She then cleared her throat and said, "Brother, would you mind showing Elizabeth what we have for her?"

"What?" I interrupted, letting go of her hand, "Your secret project, Aunt Rose?"

"Think of it as a _surprise, _actually. A _gift, _perhaps," Uncle Robert cut in.

"A surprising gift, but maybe even shocking," Aunt Rose added. I raised a brow, more confused by the fact that they were finishing each other's sentences now.

"Of course. Most likely that. Come on, Elizabeth, maybe you can guess what lies behind these curtains," Uncle Robert took my hand and led me towards the large, red curtains that took up the center of the room.

I simply shook my head. I couldn't guess, "I don't know, Uncle Robert."

He grinned widely, "You don't have to." Aunt Rose and Uncle Robert then took the hem of the curtains, and without any hesitation, separated them.

What stood before me was the grandest sight of them all. The most amazing, the most wonderful, the most _breath-taking... _

A gigantic mechanical creature with mechanical wings, gloves for its hands, and claw-like feet. Its metal bird-like beak, and round, glass eyes comprised its face.

It was... so... _gorgeous..._

"We call it the _Songbird,_" said Aunt Rose.

"We made it. Well, this Fink fellow did," Uncle Robert answered. She elbowed him.

"I mean, _we _mean, we had some help from some friends. But it's a gift, Elizabeth. It is yours. _He _is yours."

"Aunt Rose, Uncle Robert..." I trailed off, the words refusing to leave my mouth. I couldn't say anything. I was too overwhelmed with excitement.

From that day on, the Songbird would become my true and only companion. A protective savior, or even a _saint. _He would bring me what I needed. Books, food, clothes, but most of all, company. Aunt Rose didn't mind my growing attachment to the mechanical bird, as it had finally given her the chance to spend more time on her experiments, as well as with her brother, my uncle, Robert.

I slept each night soundly, knowing that there was a guardian angel looking over me like the bright moon outside my tower window.

He was the Songbird.

_My _Songbird.

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_**Author's Note:** _This concludes chapter five of "The Girl in the Tower"! Now, we've been introduced to Robert Lutece and the Songbird! Were you expecting that to be the gift? Or something else? Leave me your thoughts! :) Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and don't forget to stay tuned for the next one! Please review, follow, and favorite! Thanks so much for reading! I'll see you later! :D


	6. Chapter 6: Farewell For a While

**Author's Note: Hey everybody! Welcome to chapter six! Wow! :D I hope you've all been enjoying it so far! As usual, don't forget to review, follow, and favorite if you want to read more! Thanks a million! :) Enjoy!**

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_Chapter Six: Farewell... For a While_

**_October 31st, 1909, _**

**_Nine Years Later..._**

Nine years have passed since I was a little girl of eight years. I was seventeen now; I had become a girl of many possibilities, enjoying the adolescent life. But I still remember my childhood, how lonely it was, yet it was never lonely when Aunt Rose was around. She was my perfect company, always there for me when my mother wasn't. She had died when I was small, too small to remember. Aunt Rose said I was three when she died of typhoid fever.

"Oh, Aunt Rose! Aunt Rose! How about this one? Isn't it pretty? Take a look!" I chimed happily, spinning around in one of the dresses I was trying on.

Aunt Rose watched me closely, smiling brightly as she folded up the other dresses I had tried on, "It is very pretty, dear, like you. Though I think you should wear something that is more modest, perhaps?"

I frowned, rolling my eyes at her, "You sound like a mother, Aunt Rose." I placed my hands on my hips, staring intently into my reflection in the mirror and examining the curve of my body, "Do you think this dress accentuates my... um, rear?"

She sighed, "I am your mother, Elizabeth. Though not biologically your mother. I am your aunt with every duty to raise you like you should have been raised by your own mother, if she wasn't dead, of course. And I suggest you wear something that isn't... obvious." She hanged on the last word, glaring at me with piercing eyes.

"Obvious?" I asked, now slightly irritated by her glowering.

"Obvious as in not making yourself too attractive. In others words, not too noticeable. Understand?"

I almost stomped on the floor, but I keep my temper in check, "But, Aunt Rose..."

"But what?"

"I'm not a damn child anymore."

"I am merely teaching you what is acceptable for young girls your age, dear. That is all." Her expression then turned into that of hurt.

I pouted, feeling hurt myself by my own words, "I haven't left this tower in sixteen years... Aunt Rose, there is a good chance I'll never meet a real boy in my life. Besides, no one would want a freak like me." I rubbed the thimble on my deformed right pinkie, a lone tear running down my cheek.

Aunt Rose then reached out and brought me into her inviting embrace. Her arms tightly wrapped around my slender waist as I cried quietly into her shoulder.

"Shhhh, dear. Shhhh, it's okay. I'm here. Elizabeth, please..." She softly stroked my hair, her other hand rubbing the small of my back.

"It's true," I mumbled.

"It is not. Definitely not. You are far from being a freak, dear. Far, far from that."

"I wish I could believe that," I whispered.

"What does Songbird think? What do you think He thinks?"

I pulled away from her and said, "Songbird? I don't know."

"You should ask Him, darling. Go ahead now."

Songbird was like a dear old friend to me. He had been there by my side since I was eight, which was when Aunt Rose and Uncle Robert first gave Him to me as a gift.

I whistled a four-note tune to get His attention. Before I knew it, the gigantic mechanical bird towered over me, beaming His glowing, green eyes into mine.

"Can I ask you something important?" I asked Him. He cocked His giant, mechanical head to the side, "Am I... a freak...?"

The Bird shrilled in response, His high-pitched scream echoing from all directions and bouncing off the walls of my room. I quickly slapped my hands over my ears to shield them from the blaring noise.

"I think His answer is no, Elizabeth," Aunt Rose remarked.

He then disappeared from the room, flying back to His own cage, I assumed.

"I think so too," I said, giggling and smiling.

"You believe me now?" She asked.

"I believe _Him._"

The remainder of the day seemed to have passed by in minutes not hours. I spent those remaining hours of the day trying on new dresses and jewelry, reading novels, and singing to my heart's content. Songbird would stay and listen to me for hours on end. Before dinner, I took a short bath and did my hair, styling it into my usual ponytail with a blue ribbon that held it up. When I was finished, I called for Aunt Rose and Uncle Robert, but only to receive no reply from them. I looked around the place and searched in all the rooms of the tower. They were nowhere to be found. It was if they had suddenly vanished without a single trace of their existence. I called for Songbird and asked Him where they could possibly be. He didn't know either. After spending an entire hour looking for them, I started to worry and even panic a little. That was then I remembered that I had forgotten to look in the one place where they would most likely be... The laboratory.

I ran to the lab as fast as I could. The door was locked, but luckily, I had a lock pick with me, which always came in handy when I needed them. I was pretty sophisticated with lock picks since I had nothing but free time on my hands. I unlocked the door and went inside, but only to find an empty room. No trace of Aunt Rose and no trace of Uncle Robert anywhere. I felt like crying as I stood there feeling hopeless and worried sick. I then did one last search before leaving and found a piece of paper lying at my feet. It was a letter, written in fading ink.

It read,

_Dear Elizabeth,_

_You are probably thinking where we are. Well, to put it simply, we are currently on leave, for business and personal reasons... _

_Do not worry, though, we shall return soon. We are not confident when, but there is no reason to panic. You are safe. You are not alone._

_Songbird will keep you away from harm, and He will never disobey you. You can thank us later for programming Him that way. _

_Nonetheless, we shall never forget you._

_We shall return, and we will, eventually..._

_Sincerely,_

_Your Aunt Rose and Uncle Robert, with much love._

_P.S. Farewell... for a while._

* * *

_**Author's Note:** _This concludes chapter six of "The Girl in the Tower." As always, thank you so, so much for reading! We've now witnessed Elizabeth evolve from a child to a young woman. **SPOILER ALERT:** I just want to note that Robert and Rosalind Lutece died on that date, thanks to Jeremiah Fink, who was sent by Comstock to sabotage their machine, which was responsible for creating tears. This story is set in an AU setting, but I have kept some of the original backstory in order to keep true to the game's storyline without embellishing it too much. Anyway, please review, follow, and favorite! Lots of thanks! :)


	7. Chapter 7: Stranger

**Author's Note: Welcome to chapter seven of "The Girl in the Tower"! I know I haven't updated since the 16th (catching up with homework and stuff) but here I am! :D How's it going guys? I hope all is well with you, but I ****_definitely_**** hope you've been enjoying the story so far! As always, please review, follow, and favorite! Thanks a lot with much love! :) Enjoy! **

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_Chapter Seven: Stranger_

I tightly clutched the letter in my hand, tight enough to have nearly crumbled it. I then gasped slightly as I felt something sharp break my skin. I quickly let go of the paper, letting it slowly glide back to the floor. The sharp edge of it had cut the tip of my index finger.

"Oh..." I groaned softly, examining the small drop of blood that trickled from the wound and down my finger. I began to fear the worse now. Where have Aunt Rose and Uncle Robert gone? I thought. Their letter was not enough to quell the thoughts that ran amuck in my head, not enough to bring any comfort. I grew increasingly tense with each second that ticked by.

A low rumble then sounded just below my feet. I knew it was the Songbird looking for me, as He had detected I was under some sort of stress, and I assumed it was part of His programming. His high-pitched shriek startled me and I nearly fell back but grabbed the edge of a table near-by to catch myself.

The question still lingered in my head where my Aunt and Uncle could have possibly gone, but there was no answer to be found in the mysteriously abandoned lab. Not even one trace of evidence.

The Songbird's screaming became louder and louder now as He neared. I finally left the lab, making my way back to my room before He could find me. I didn't want Him to worry and think that I was in danger. Aunt Rose and Uncle Robert could have been the ones in real danger, but I refused to believe that. I then immediately ran into my room, locking the door behind me and looking around the place for any sign of Songbird; a few seconds later, He appeared. My giant savior stood tall before me with His mechanical wings spread out and His glass eyes a bright red, indicating that He was in combat mode. His protective presence put many of my worries at ease at that moment.

I then reached out for His metal beak, softly petting its hard and cool surface. My fingers ran along its curved shape, feeling every dent from every fight that He had ever been in to protect me. Not only was He my one and only true protector, He was also the guardian of my tower, my home, my inescapable prison. But it was His cage too, a bird cage for the two of us. And even though He was just a giant, mechanical bird programmed to keep me from harm's way, I believe He could feel pain just as much as I did. He felt suffering, He felt lonely, and He felt imprisoned, just like me. And I think we were two of the same. Just two lonely souls looking for a way out. I was held captive in a tower, the monument of Columbia, and He was held captive in a body made of metal, a steel cage. And I could see that in His eyes the guilt and grief He was feeling. He knew He had a heart and a mind, but had no moral strength of His own, for He was just my protector and my Songbird. He had no choice but to obey and kill anybody who would dare threaten to hurt me. I did wonder, though, what was in that body of His. Was He just scrap metal and rusting parts? Or was He a man trapped in His own body, without a choice and without a will?

"Shhhh..." I whispered, trying to calm Him. I gently stroked His entire beak and down the tubing that was attached to it with the back of my hand, "Don't worry. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here, Songbird..."

He slowly shook His head from side to side, His glass eyes turning from red to green, which meant He was on His best behavior now. I embraced His beak with the full length of my arms, reaching all around it. I held it close to my body, wanting Him to feel the beating of my heart against Him.

Suddenly, there was pounding at the door. I gasped, slapping my hands over my mouth and hoping I wasn't heard. And as part of Songbird's programming, He also reacted, His eyes turning red again, but kept as quiet and still as possible like I was. I knew immediately that it wasn't Aunt Rose or Uncle Robert. They would at least call my name, not pound the door to get my attention.

Then there was a pause, a short moment of eerie silence before the pounding returned...

_Thump, thump, thump._

Pause.

_Thump, thump, thump._

...Another pause...

_Thump, thump, thump._

...And yet another pause...

The pounding continued for what seemed like minutes.

But once more, there was a pause, and then a word, "Elizabeth?"

My heart skipped a beat.

"I know you're there, Elizabeth. I know Songbird is with you."

I was now in danger. Nowhere was safe, not even my tower in the sky. And who was this stranger at the door? I did not know. I then turned to Songbird, but He didn't know either.

"Elizabeth, don't make me do this. I _will_ find a way in, so you _better_ open this door NOW!" I realized that the stranger sounded like an older man. I still did not recognize him, though, "Elizabeth, please!" He kept pounding the door relentlessly.

I had to speak up now, I had to answer to whoever was trying to hurt me or take me, and I had to protect my home, my guardian, and myself, "Who's there? Who are you?" I shouted at the door.

There was a brief pause yet again, and then he spoke, "I'm not here to hurt you, Elizabeth. Just let me in. Everything's fine!" It didn't sound fine to me...

"No, I don't believe you! What do you want from me? How do you know my name?" I screamed this time, as loud as I could.

"Elizabeth, just open the goddamn door!" He started hitting the door with much more force now. I then heard a crack.

Songbird let out a deafening shriek, extending His wings and retracting the claws from His massive gloves. He then charged at the door, exerting His weight against it; the great force of His strength completely destroyed it.

What followed sent a shiver of fear down my spine and the hairs on my neck stand on end. The man screamed in agony as Songbird grabbed him and threw him across my room. It happened so fast that I couldn't see him at first, but from a short glimpse, he looked very familiar, too familiar...

It was as if I... I _knew _him...

Songbird then picked up the man, nearly crushing him in His mighty grip. I could hear the sound of bones cracking, which made my stomach turn inwards.

"Elizabeth! NO! NO! NO!" He cried painfully. I took another look at his face, trying to recognize who it was, who it might have been...

My eyes then shot out in shock, absolute shock...

His long, white beard was covered in his own blood, and the gashes and bruises on his face did not cover up his wrinkles. I remembered seeing that same face in some of the books I read, the ones about Columbia's history. I read that he was the city's leader, founder, and _prophet..._

They called him _Father... _

Father Comstock.

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_**Author's Note:** _This concludes chapter seven of "The Girl in the Tower." This chapter took me FOREVER to write, since I had to revise it and do some research. Sorry if I'm a little late, guys! Homework has been kind of delaying me as well, as I mentioned in the first author's note, so I wanted to get that taken care of first before working on this chapter. But don't worry, I'll try to submit the next chapter as soon as possible, hopefully in the next few hours or so, so stay tuned! :D And don't forget to review, follow, and favorite! I'll see you all again very soon! :) Thank you for your patience!

P.S. Since I took so long on this chapter, I'm not sure if it came out as well I wanted it... Please let me know if I made any grammatical mistakes.


	8. Chapter 8: The Truth

**Author's Note: Hello everybody, welcome to chapter eight of "The Girl in the Tower"! I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter. :) Here's a quick recap before we begin the next leg of our story: we've finally been introduced to Comstock, which I have made unrelated to Booker in this AU for obvious reasons, but I will further explain all that by the end of this chapter! And I know you've all been anticipating the arrival of Booker DeWitt, but don't worry any longer, he will be introduced very soon! Now sit back and enjoy the next chapter of our story! And don't forget to review, follow, and favorite! Many thanks! :) **

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_Chapter Eight: The Truth_

"...You're... You're _him..." _I watched the man I knew was Comstock bleed to death right in front of me. If Songbird had a voice of His own, He would say He was just protecting me from the worse of people, but this man didn't appear to be that. He was the Prophet for Columbia's sake!

"E-Elizabeth... E... liza... b-beth..." Comstock moaned, sputtering out a mouthful of blood. He twitched his hand towards me as his sunken, blue eyes met mine. There was fire in those eyes, the fire of his soul burning into me. I could see it, and _feel_ it.

I said nothing to him at first, but I wanted to know if he had done something to Aunt Rose and Uncle Robert. He _knew_... He had to have known... I could see it in his eyes too, "What did you do with... them...?" I choked on my words, trying so hard not to cry.

He spoke with a gruff, strained voice, his throat sounding like it was clogged with his own blood, "W-who...?" I grimaced as he let out another mouthful. I felt my cheeks flare at his answer. He knew! He KNEW!

"_Who?_" I snapped, "You know who! You're lying!"

"Oh, child... i-if only you knew what was b-best for you..." He gurgled, wincing as he tried to extend his hand out to me again.

I quickly grabbed a book from a table near-by and aimed it at him. He was testing my patience, "Don't you dare! Why are you here? What do you want from me? What did you do with them?! My Aunt and Uncle, you bastard!" I screamed.

He let out a low, breathy chuckle, "Your Aunt and Uncle? Oh, dear, ch-child... How mistaken you are, h-how _misguided _you are..."

I was ready to throw the book at him, "What are you talking about?!" I demanded.

His wrinkled, bony, blood-covered hand then reached out for my ankle. I kicked him. "E-Elizabeth, p-please!"

I kicked him again, "Tell me! Tell me now! What did you do with them?!"

He groaned each time I threw my foot into his chest, but then a weak, sinister smile spread across his bloody lips, "...What do you w-want me to _tell _you, child? What is th-there to say?"

My eyes filled with warm, stinging tears, ready to burst, "Please, _please_... Just tell me, dammit!"

He curled his fingers into his palm, balling his hand into a tight fist, "...I can only t-tell you... the... _truth..." _He pounded the floor and held back a pained cry.

Songbird, who stood over Comstock, recoiled His massive wings and retracted the claws from His gloves, His eyes turning red once again. He then hovered over him, as if He was ready to attack.

The pain that cut through Comstock's face pulled at me instantly, breaking my ability to feel more angry with him. But why? I wondered. Why should I feel any sympathy for the man that possibly took my Aunt and Uncle? They could be hurt for all I knew! _He_ was the one that should feel remorse!

But then again... I didn't know much about this man, other than what I've read about him in books.

I took a deep and steady breath, letting the muscles of my body relax and the blood in my veins cool. I slowly dropped the book to the ground, taking a step towards him.

Songbird reacted.

"E-Elizabeth! NO!" Comstock screamed. Songbird pushed me back as forcefully as He could, wailing and making the entire room shake with great intensity. The mammoth bird then drew back His arm, His claws exposed.

He was going to kill him.

"No! Please! Don't hurt him!" I cried and stood in between them, my hands outstretched protectively, "Stop it! Please!" He tired to push me away again, but I punched the knuckles of His glove, resisting His strength.

He shrieked and I yelled louder, "STOP IT! NOW! He's not hurting you! He's not hurting me!" Then He finally stopped, pulling back from me, in shame.

I felt a tugging at my skirt, pulling me down. I turned around and saw Comstock reaching out for me, "E-Elizabeth... Please, f-forgive me..." I took his hand.

A tear then ran down from my eye. I moved my hand to his cheek and rested my palm against his face, feeling the wetness and stickiness of his blood on my skin. I could feel the slowing of his pulse. He was dying.

There were many questions that I wanted to ask him at that moment, but there was only one that stood out from the sea of inquiry.

I gently stroked his face, whispering softly, "Who are you... Comstock...?"

He then smiled sadly, struggling to speak, "I-I... I've... always... c-cared... cared for y-you... Elizabeth..."

I fell silent, searching for a lie in his eyes, but there was none.

Was he... Could he be...

"W-what...?" I stammered, feeling my throat become dry and tight.

"E-Elizabeth... oh, my dearest, ch-child..." He brought a bloody hand to my chin, tilting it towards him.

I shook my head, the truth beginning to rear its ugly head, "No..."

His eyes then fluttered shut, his breathing becoming shallow and his heart beat slowing. I pressed his fingers into my skin, keeping him there for as long as possible. I knew who _I _was now, and I knew who _he _was. I now held my dying father in my arms, and I never let go until the very end.

I then felt him shiver in my grasp, "Y-yes, Elizabeth..." he murmured, "It is... finished..."

He drew his last breath.

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_**Author's Note:** _This concludes chapter eight of "The Girl in the Tower." **SPOILER ALERT:** Yes, Elizabeth is revealed to be Comstock's daughter. I am aware that Comstock is Elizabeth's father in-game, since he is Booker from an alternative reality. However, for the sake of my readers, as well as for my own, I have made Comstock unrelated to Booker. In other words, they are not the same person, but rather two different people. This is to ensure that a relationship will indeed occur between Elizabeth and Booker later in the story. I hope that clears everything up! Thanks for reading! Please review, follow, and favorite! I appreciate your support! :)


	9. Chapter 9: The Photograph

**Author's Note: Hey guys, welcome to chapter NINE of the "The Girl in the Tower"! I'm so glad you're here! And thank you so much for your support! I really appreciate it! Please review, follow, favorite, and enjoy! Thank you again! **

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_Chapter Nine: The Photograph_

Comstock, my father, the man that kept me locked up in the tower for sixteen years, was now dead in my arms. He was bloodied and mangled, beyond recognition, beyond the face I saw in the books I read. He was seen as this savior, a messiah, a _prophet _in the eyes of the Columbian people, but in my eyes, he was lesser than any man I've ever read about. I once understood that Aunt Rose was the one responsible for my up-bringing, my isolation, and imprisonment. But I looked in the eyes of Comstock, and saw the truth behind them. I saw something so mysterious, something so beyond this _reality. _I was frightened by this vision.

I was still holding my father's lifeless body, tears wetting my cheeks as I whispered mumbled nothings into the air. Songbird stood right next to me as I wept for minutes. He was a brutal creature, but also a thoughtful one who was able to feel some shame over what He had done, even though it was done in the name of protection. Nonetheless, He killed my father. Comstock died at the hands of my guardian.

"S-Songbird..." I stammered, "I-I'm ready now... He's ready. Take him to the Memorial Gardens in Emporia. I'll be there soon. I just n-need... a few minutes." I wiped a tear from my eye, stroking my father's snow-white hair. Songbird slowly nodded His massive head and scooped my father up into His gloved hand, taking him away from me. I then watched Him fly through my opened tower window as he carried my father's body to the Cemetery, where he would be laid to rest.

Before I left the tower to meet my father at his grave, I cleaned and dressed, replacing my bloodied clothes for a white corset and a black gown. I carefully wiped myself clean of all his blood, which was on my face, arms, and hands. I then took out a silver key with an emblem of a bird on the front of it. I had taken it from my father as he lay dying in my arms. I knew the key's purpose, and that was an exit out of here, once and for all. I thought I could start life anew after burying my own father, knowing that I was now free from his grasp. And maybe Songbird could take me away from here, away from Columbia at last. Maybe He could take me to Paris! All the ideas quickly swarmed my head at once, bringing a bright smile to my face. I was finally _free. _

I ran to the library, almost forgetting to bring a prayer book; I remember Aunt Rose reading me a prayer each night before bed.

I wanted to give my father a proper funeral, something I knew he would have wanted me to do for him as a last favor. I then searched the library shelves for the book as I recalled where Aunt Rose had placed it. After a few minutes, I finally found it hiding behind another one of her publications. The prayer book was covered in a thick sheet of dust, which made me sneeze as I wiped it off. I then skimmed through the book's aging pages, looking for a prayer to use at the funeral. Every prayer was an ode to my father, written to praise his "godly" gifts. My father was less than a god, and even less than a man, but regardless of who he was in a previous life, the people saw him as a heavenly idol that was to be worshiped. There was also a statue made in his image; it was erected in Columbia Square.

I flipped and flipped through the pages, still looking for a prayer. There were so many to choose from, but I wasn't sure which one would be appropriate to use.

An old photograph then slid out from between the last two pages of the book, gliding to the floor. I quickly bent down to pick it up. I studied the photograph with curious eyes.

It was of a young man wearing a suit and tie- he was clean-shaven, handsome, and strict in his posture- standing in front of a desk in an office, which was probably his. The man's face, besides his strong features, was worn with fatigue and guilt. I saw the regret in his eyes.

The photograph seemed to have been torn at the corners, indicating its age. I then noticed underneath it was a name and a date, faded but still visible.

It said,

_Booker DeWitt, P.I. New York City, 1893._

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_**Author's Note:** _This concludes chapter nine of "The Girl in the Tower." Thank you so much for reading! I hope you all enjoyed it, especially the ending! :D Please stay tuned for the next chapter! And don't forget to review, follow, and favorite! I'll see you all again soon! Love you all!


	10. Chapter 10: A Night in New York

**Author's Note: Hello everybody! Welcome to chapter TEN of "The Girl in the Tower"! I really hope you've been enjoying it so far, and as always, thank you SO MUCH for your reviews, follows, and favorites! I super duper appreciate it! I love you all! So before we begin the next leg of our story, I just want to make a note that there will be some lemon in this chapter, which I'm sure you've all been waiting for! ;) And I really enjoyed writing this one for sure. :3 Please review, follow, and fav! Thank you again and enjoy! :) **

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_Chapter Ten: A Night in New York _

_**1911,**  
_

_**Two Years Later... **_

**I. **

I was destined to find the man in the photograph. I could have simply opened a tear to New York City to find him, but I couldn't control my tears as well as I thought I could. I had been looking for him for two years and yet, I only found him in my dreams and visions. Maybe he was the man who would finally come to rescue me from the tower, or the man who would take me away to Paris to marry him. Whoever he was, he meant something to Aunt Rose and Uncle Robert. But they never once mentioned a "Booker DeWitt" in any of their conversations to me, and Aunt Rose never told me about him. Not even a single book I've read alludes to him. It was as if he just dropped from the sky and into this world where he does not belong. After discovering the photograph, I immediately took a gondola to Emporia, and from there to Memorial Gardens to my father's funeral. I told Songbird what I had found and that I wanted to find this man. It became my mission, my main priority, and my secret. But to my shock, Songbird resisted and took me back to the tower. He refused to let me go, refused to let me out into the real world. For the eleven years I had known Him, I began to resent His very presence. His company brought me more misery than happiness now. And I always dreaded Him being there; His glass eyes were constantly watching me every second and minute of each passing day. Before, He was my friend and closest ally, my one protector, and my true guardian. Now, He was my enemy and closest foe, my one torturer, and my true jailer. I _loved _Him, but now I _hated_ Him... Hate wasn't a word in my dictionary, but it was a feeling in my heart. My Songbird no more.

Two years later and still trapped. I tried to escape but my every attempt failed. My every hope was shattered before my eyes. The dream of ever leaving the tower faded away along with every ounce of my strength. I lost my freedom and my independence. In Columbia, every boy and man had the gift of free will and redemption, while every woman and girl had nothing. Even the coloreds, the Irish, and the foreign! I had nothing, no escape from here. Some may call it heaven, but I call it hell.

My free will might have left, but my memories stayed. My memories of the tower from when I was a little girl were bright and filled with joy. There were feelings of isolation and sadness though, the need and want to be outside to see the wonders of Columbia. I never had real friends of my own except the Songbird, who was my true and only friend, _for a while... _My naivety and innocence was because of my confinement. And my knowledge of the human system only included which parts of my body I use to think, eat, feel, hear, and dispose of waste. I did read about animalian reproduction, which didn't include humans. Nothing beyond the _talk, _as they call it.

The two years that passed since my father died were tortuous and unbearable, leaving more bad than good memories behind. But there was one memory, beside all the others, that stood out from the sea of subconscious thoughts. The memory of the man in the photograph still tugged at the corners of my mind. I thought of him every day, and even _dreamed _of him every night. My dreams of him were unusual, but they also seemed like visions. They were so real, like a memory of yesterday.

Every dream had a beginning, but it never seemed to have an end. We would be on a zeppelin one minute and then on Battleship Bay the next. The dreams always changed, though only one thing remained the same. I always with him, always by his side and never leaving. I would wake up the next morning with a smile on my face, and fall asleep each night imagining I was in his arms. Oh, Booker DeWitt, where are you?

_My hero..._

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**II.**

I walk the lonely, rain-drenched streets of New York City at night. I get caught in a short but slow downpour as I run to the canopy that hangs over the 24-hour cafe. They sell sandwiches and delicious lobster bisque for only a dollar twenty.

"Damn," I say. I'm all wet now and cold so I wrap my arms around my shivering and drenched body. I then turn to the wide window and see a man standing at the counter. I also notice that he's the only one there, alone but talking to the waitress that serves the best coffee around. I know her as Louise Shellman. I always come by her cafe just to drink her coffee and eat her eclairs. I decide to walk in and greet her.

"Hello, Louise!" I call her name and she quickly notices me. She recognizes me every time because I'm always wearing the same clothes, which is the usual white blouse and buttoned blue shirt. The man speaking to her turns to me and stares. He doesn't smile.

"Oh, hello there, Elizabeth. How may I help you today, sweetheart? Oh, don't tell me, the usual, right?" she asks cheerily, her big cheeks taking up most of her face, which is too big for her small head. She twirls around in her dress and apron, taking the coffee pitcher from the counter and pouring the hot stuff into a cup. She then hands it to me.

"Oh, gosh, thank you, Miss." I smile warmly as I blow on it before taking a sip.

She returns the smile and says, "My pleasure, hon." She's an older woman, but so friendly and inviting. She is the only one in the city I know personally.

The man at the counter doesn't seem to take any interest in our small talk, so he turns back to her and asks for another round of coffee and crumb cake. She gladly complies. I'm hesitant to approach the man, wondering who he is, but I instead take my place at the counter next to him and hope I catch his attention. I then take a short glance at him and see his face: his features are strong, very handsome in appearance. He also has dark brown hair and a pair of green eyes. That's when I find myself staring at him, instantly captured by his looks.

It doesn't take long until I finally catch his eye and he throws a smirk at me, saying in a gruff voice, "Do I know you, kid?" His green eyes hold me hostage for a long second.

I then blush at his question, stammering out an answer, "O-oh, no, um... you don't." I quickly turn away from him to hide my obvious embarrassment, taking another sip of my now cold coffee, "Ew, it's cold." I grimace at the taste. I hear him trying to stifle a giggle now.

"Want another, hon?" Louise then asks with a smile. I nod and she makes me another.

"So..." the man next to me says, "what brings you down here?"

I almost forget to hear him, "Uh, I live here. A couple blocks away."

He chuckles, "Same. I work here, in fact. My office is literally down the street. P.I."

"P.I.?" I ask. I gather the strength to look at him again without fainting.

"Private Investigator. I work for the Pinkertons. Ever heard of 'em?"

I shake my head, "No. Who are they?"

"Like I said, private investigators. Contractors."

"Oh. Are they like spies?"

He can't help but laugh, "No, not exactly." He then takes a piece of his crumb cake and dips it in his drink.

"Oh," is all I'm able to say.

The man downs the coffee and finishes his desert, turning to me once again, "So, you're not gonna ask me what we do for a livin'?"

I take a large gulp of my own drink, nearly burning my throat. I'm just about to choke. "W-what? Oh, well, I guess so. What do you do?"

"We break up strikes. Like worker's strikes? That sort of thing."

"Labor strikes?" I raise a brow in interest.

"Yeah, that's right. You been in one?"

"No. Never have." I sneak another sip, but slowly this time.

He rubs his chin. Curious or interested, maybe? He then grins and offers a hand, "Well, you seem like a nice enough sort. The name's Booker DeWitt. But call me Booker, please." I'm hesitant to take his hand at first, feeling a sudden wave of heat pooling in my cheeks, and afraid he might think me odd. I'm sure he does, considering that I've been refusing to look him in the eye properly. Heh, this man, Booker, such a looker, but also a loner... like me... A loner living in New York City with not a care in the world left. Karma has a very weird way of controlling things. Controlling the nature and fate of unknown individuals. We end up meeting each other at this cafe, and we're talking and exchanging eye contact. It's funny, really. Too difficult to explain with just plain and simple words.

I run a hand through my hair, catching a loose strand between my fingers. I tug at it gently and my cheeks suddenly flush, realizing that I am now in a different place. A _different _place! Where am I? Where could I be? I was in Louise's cafe one minute and now I'm somewhere else the next. I can't explain it but I also remember and can't remember ever moving from one place to another. We were walking, weren't we? Booker and me? We left the cafe, right? Hand in hand or arm in arm? Through the rain and the fog? The cold and the wind? I don't understand. It's too strange...

I blink twice and then thrice, and then once more.

Now I _know _where I am...

I'm in _his _apartment.

Booker turns to me and looks me straight in the eye. I notice that I've been staring at him for the past five minutes or more. I can't remember but I don't try to stress my mind over it. There's no reason. I just need to live in the moment for now. I quickly avert my eyes, a rush of shyness reddening my face, redder than any apple.

"Elizabeth?" He utters hoarsely, taking a step toward me and gently grabbing my chin. He tilts it upward so our eyes meet. I force myself to look back at him, but I can't. It hurts me to ignore his gaze, though I can't help it. I can't help feel the tension that builds within my heart. Do I need something? Do I need something from him? Do I want _him? _No, no, of course not! I just met him!

My heart disagrees.

"Y-yes...? M-Mr. DeWi-"

He stops me, placing a calloused finger at my lips, "Call me Booker." He slowly leans in, slowly and... _teasingly... _

My heart skips two beats, automatically closing my eyes as I feel his chapped lips brush ever so softly against mine.

He's _kissing me... _

I then feel his hands cupping my warm, reddened cheeks, squeezing them slightly in his grip. I gasp a little, biting my lip. I then try to yank away from his grasp, acting as if I've been violated. I really haven't as my heart has already granted him permission. I'm _his _now.

He backs off as well, letting go of my face and mouth. I want to run out of here, I want to say that I don't want to see him again, but I _do. _I do want him and need him right this second.

But why? I don't understand. I just met him... I don't know him!

I need to leave, I need to run fast. I need to go _now. _

But I can't. I can't do it!

"B-Booker...?" I whisper and I let go of my mental restraints.

One minute we were kissing and caressing, feeling each other's lips and tongues run and meld with one another's. Now we are on a cot, broken with the springs exposed, but we don't care. I wrap my legs around his bare torso, allowing him to explore every inch of my body with hand and mouth. We make love, and we do it for hours on end... all night, never ending, never letting go, and never caring about the world around us. Nothing else matters now.

My moans and shudders escalate the pure ecstasy between us. I yank on his hair, kissing him all over and planting sweet and wet kisses all over his chest. He kisses me hungrily in return, leaving a thick trail of purple and blue patches about my neck and breasts. He sucks my nipples dry and leaves light scratches on my back. He pleasures every fiber of my being with every part of his own, his length and his hips pumping hard into me. Each thrust leaves me screaming and begging for so much more, nearly to the point that I lose my voice and my sanity altogether. We ride out our countless orgasms until morning comes.

It seems as if the night has stretched into mid-day now. Though we can care less, because we rest in each other's arms, feeling the nakedness of our bodies pressed against one another's. It was wonderful, last night, I mean. But it is wonderful still, being in the arms of a man I have indeed fallen for. Last night was a confirmation of our feelings and desires. I didn't know that I felt like that for him, yet it was inevitable. Karma has decided our fates, which is being together, even if it means being covered in each other's hot sweat.

I softly stroke his bare chest, gently rubbing my fingers into his nipples and whispering as I close my eyes, "Booker?"

"Yeah?" he mutters, and I can hear a smile playing on his voice. He then lets out a low groan and catches my hand. I feel his lips move across the soft pads of my fingertips. I blush and grin, burying my face into the hollow of his throat. My head rests underneath his chin.

"Will you...stay...?" My voice hangs on the last word. I keep my eyes close, embarrassed at my awkward request. I don't expect him to say yes, and I certainly don't expect him to stay with the girl who he just met and made endless love to. I shouldn't even be asking him of this. What's wrong with me?

I hear him hesitant for a brief second, but with a sigh and a kiss to my forehead, he says...

"Yes, Elizabeth. I'll stay."

* * *

**III. **

Then I woke up...

It was just... a _dream..._

I just lay in my bed, staring away into the high ceiling. With the sheets over my body, I realized something else. My hand, wet and sticky, was buried deep inside me. I was shocked and scared, quickly removing my soiled fingers from there. I didn't understand and I couldn't remember ever _touching _myself. I dreamed of being in New York City, spending a night at a cafe and talking to this woman named Louise Shellman, and this man, who I later made love to, Booker DeWitt. The man in the photograph. The man in my dreams, thoughts, and visions. It seemed all too real, though. It seemed as if it really happened, but it happened too fast.

Songbird then swept through the room, probably detecting my high tension levels. I was tense, frightened by the fact that I enjoyed myself in my sleep, and dreamed of being with a man that I never thought I would even be with. It was impossible. I was trapped here. I would never find him, and I would never escape my jailer, the Songbird. My Songbird no more.

I jumped from my bed, revealing myself bare from the waist down. I immediately shielded myself with my hand, not letting Him see me. I then ran to the mirror near by and looked at my reflection. I blushed deeply, seeing how dripping wet I had become. I then noticed the Songbird watching me with His great glass eyes, staring at me with neither an understanding nor any consideration for my privacy. I turned around and told Him to leave me be, but He ignored and kept looking. I wanted to scream at Him and command Him to fly away and never come back. I didn't want Him anymore and I didn't need Him anymore. He was nothing to me. He was my worse nightmare. I tried again, though, this time giving Him a reason why I needed to be alone for a while. I told Him I wanted to try on some dresses. Being the stupid bird that He was, He finally left me be. I was now left to my own devices.

I then took off my gown and studied my naked form. I examined each and every contour of my womanly figure: my rounded, bare breasts, my hard, pink nipples, my small bellybutton, and my hair-covered genitals. I carefully, but hesitantly inserted a finger between my lower lips, letting the folds capture my fingertip. With slow, gentle strokes, I played with my clit, awfully enjoying the pleasurable vibes rippling through me from bottom to top. I moaned softly and increased my speed. I kept on going until I reached my peak, achieving a long and hard orgasm.

I then dived into bed once again and closed my eyes. I wanted to dream of Booker once more. The man who will save me from this hell in the sky. My tower no more.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_ **BIG UPDATE: **Oh my gosh you guys, I am so, so, so sorry for the really long chapter and the fact that I haven't updated since the 21st, for personal reasons... But I apologize for my absence and I promise that I will try to catch up and upload more chapters in the next day or two! Once again, I'm very sorry for not updating in a few days but I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter! And I really hope it was worth the wait! Thank you for your understanding, patience, and support! I love you all so much! And as always, please don't forget to review, follow, and favorite! I'll see you guys very, very soon! :)


	11. Chapter 11: Return

**Author's Note: Hey guys, welcome to chapter eleven of "The Girl in the Tower"! I hope you enjoyed the last chapter! ;) And I did promise to publish a couple more chapters to catch up and make up for my absence, so here it is! :D Please review, follow, and fav! Thank you so much as always for your patience and support! :) Enjoy!**

* * *

_Chapter Eleven: Return_

**_1912,_**

**_One year later..._**

_Welcome to your life,_

_There's no turning back, _

_Even while we sleep,_

_We will find you acting on your best behavior,_

_Turn your back on mother nature,_

_Everybody wants to rule the world..._

The phonograph plays my favorite tune as I reach into my wardrobe. I take out a long white dress with strings of flowers hanging from the waistband; I try it on. It fits perfectly, except for the straps, which come loose from around my shoulders. I then adjust them with a needle and thread. Aunt Rose taught me to stitch and sew when I was six.

"Oh, that's better now. Hmmm, how about this one, actually?" I leave the white dress on my bed and take out a short, red one with black roses decorating the straps and hem. It fits even better than the first and the straps fit tightly to my shoulders. It looks so pretty, but I still really like that white one... Oh, damn, if only I could ask for someone's opinion on both...

Songbird.

I frown at the very thought of Him now. Thinking of Songbird is like thinking of jumping out of the window to my death. I'd rather wish for that than to be with Him each and every day of my lonely life. As hard and taxing as it is, I choose to live in the moment, rather than in regret and shame. There is no use and no reason to even contemplate escape at this point. I gave up a long time ago because my life is here now and nowhere else. I just need to make believe Songbird is not there watching me with His glaring glass eyes... Those eyes I loathe... those eyes I dare not to spit in.

I sigh and turn around to switch off the phonograph, removing the record from it. The music has transformed to a chorus of noise as I become annoyed at my indecision. Both dresses are beautiful, but I can't decide which one I should wear later! I refuse to consult Songbird on this, as I want nothing to do with Him. I'm only hoping that maybe He's finally left me alone for once, or better yet, forever. I doubt it highly, though, because I know He'll never leave me be. I will grow old in this tower, and I will wither away and watch myself rot and change into dust. It's becoming more and more likely every day, and the question of who will finally rescue me from here has remained unanswered. There is no hope left, is there?

If only Aunt Rose could tell me otherwise...

I then jump back as I'm startled by a sudden knock at my door. I nearly drop the record I'm holding in my hands and I take a couple of steps back, gathering my voice. I'm ready to scream for Songbird's help, as I'm supposed to when I'm in danger.

"Who's there?! Who are you and why are you here?!" I shout as loud as I can, aiming the record at the door. I notice that it was a gentle knock rather than a pounding noise. It could mean that it's someone I know, but it could very well be a trap instead. I proceed with the utmost amount of caution as possible.

Another knock follows and I shout again, demanding an answer, "Tell me who you are, right now!"

A brief pause and then a familiar voice, "Dear? Elizabeth? It's me."

I gasp, nearly bursting into tears. I recognize the voice immediately.

It's Aunt Rose.

"Oh my god, Aunt Rose!" I drop the record and run toward the door. I quickly open it to find the woman that raised me since my mother died, my dear Aunt Rose. _My_ Aunt Rose!

Something seems strange, though. She hasn't aged since I last saw her, which was three years ago. But I don't care at this moment, because now I have her back, which must also mean that Uncle Robert is here too! And I can't help but bring her into my arms, clinging onto her as tight as I can.

I can hear her giggle, "Oh, my dear!"

"Oh, Aunt Rose..." I cry quietly into her neck, not wanting to let her go this time. She then gently yanks me away and cups my face in her hands, making me look her in the eye.

"No time, child. There's someone here for you. It's very important." Something is wrong... Where's Uncle Robert?

"W-what...? What's the matter? Where's Uncle Robert?" I ask, my voice trembling as I try to make sense of what she's trying to say. Her face isn't one of happiness, but one of seriousness. Something _is_ going on.

"He's here, love. Don't worry, but you have to listen to me carefully now. Understand?"

I simply nod. She then lets go of me and steps aside.

There is now silence, a long silence.

Uncle Robert suddenly appears and stands beside Aunt Rose. But I don't understand how... _how... _

"We know you have not seen us in a long while, and we assume you received our letter to you. We also know that Comstock is dead, your father," begins Uncle Robert.

"It is going to be rather difficult for us to try to explain everything to you, but we are here to make things right again. We want you to meet someone, Elizabeth. There is nothing to fear now," adds Aunt Rose.

"If you don't count that massive bird thing." quips Uncle Robert.

I shake my head and stammer, feeling my head spin in confusion, "W-what? W-who...?"

A man then comes out from behind the shadows. He's tall and rugged, beaten and scarred...

I quickly recognize his face.

He's the man in the photograph. The man in my dreams, thoughts, and visions.

He's Booker DeWitt.

* * *

_**Author's Note:** _This concludes chapter eleven of "The Girl in the Tower"! I hope you enjoyed this one! :D We've finally been introduced to the one and only, Booker DeWitt! Thank you so much for reading and please stay tuned for the next chapter, which will actually be the last chapter for this story. I'm planning on writing the sequel after I've completed this one, though, so keep your eyes peeled! I hope you're all looking forward to it! And don't forget to review, follow, and fav! Thank you so much for everything! I'll see you guys later! :) Love you all!


	12. Chapter 12: Rescue

**Author's Note: Hey everybody, welcome to the twelfth and FINAL chapter of "The Girl in the Tower"! Now you might be thinking that this will be the last of our story. But don't you fear! This is actually part 1 of a 24 chapter story. This will simply mark the first half of it, which means that the second half of it will be the sequel to this one! I'll start writing the sequel as soon as possible and hopefully get it up in a few days. So stay tuned for that! And please review, follow, and favorite! Thank you all! Enjoy!**

* * *

_Chapter Twelve: Rescue_

I know him in my dreams, my thoughts, and my visions. I know him from the photograph that I've hidden somewhere in my heart, and I know that his memory is safe with me. Even the secrets that he keeps, which I can see in his green eyes, are safe in the deepest corner of my mind. His worn out face is a canvas of past sin and regrets and he is shameful of them, wanting to leave them in the past where they belong. But behind that face, however, is a man I know I should not be with. Though my heart, over and over, strongly disagrees. These feelings inside me go against every instinct and value I've ever kept sacred. Morality is a virtue I do not want to disobey, and it is a line I cannot cross. But what I'm feeling is certainly crossing that line I've drawn between myself and the man that now stands in front of me. And without a doubt, I know this is absolutely wrong.

"Elizabeth? Are you Elizabeth?" The man says to me. His gruff voice is exactly how I imagined it, or that is, how I dreamed and thought it to be.

I'm too much in shock to answer back so I just nod. My heart pounds relentlessly against my chest.

Aunt Rose and Uncle Robert, who have been standing there the whole time, say, or at least Aunt Rose says, "Elizabeth, this is Booker DeWitt."

"To put it simply, love, he's here to rescue you from that terrible Songbird of yours. Sister, I told you He was a dreadful idea." Uncle Robert quickly cuts in and Aunt Rose simply rolls her eyes.

"Hush, brother. Not exactly. Elizabeth, the tower, this tower, is unstable. Comstock, before he died, programmed the Siphon to detonate after a certain period of time, which is soon." She says.

"Or today, perhaps, or maybe even tomorrow if it's not too late, you see?" He interrupts, again.

"Brother, I'd rather not argue with you today. Elizabeth, Comstock did accomplish to do exactly that with us. We will explain that later, but for now, we highly suggest that you leave with Mr. DeWitt. We can't risk you getting hurt," she then briefly pauses and sighs, "However, Songbird will be your only challenge. It would be easy to simply leave Him here and have Him destroyed by the Siphon's desctruction, but it won't be that easy."

"Which is the worse part of this whole mission, dear." Uncle Roberts says, frowning slightly.

"Need I remind you, brother, this is _your _idea after all. Not mine. Well, not entirely."

Booker, visibly annoyed by the long-winded conversation, draws his weapon from his holster and cocks it. "Goddammit you two, I came here for the girl, not for the speech." They then clear their throats and take my hand, giving me over to the man with a gun in his hand. I immediately resist.

"No, no! I don't want to go, yet... I don't know him! He might be here to hurt me for all I know! Please, Aunt Rose! What are you doing?" I push away from them and back into the wall behind me. I shield myself with my hands, keeping the strange man away from me.

Aunt Rose quickly intervenes, grabbing my hands and placing them at my sides, "Please, Elizabeth. He is only here to save you, not to hurt you. That is out of the question."

"But-"

"But nothing. Dear, please understand that you have no other choice. I understand that you do not trust him, but you can trust your aunt and uncle. Are we clear?"

I then remember what my father said as he was dying before my eyes. He questioned Aunt Rose and Uncle Robert. He said something about a _truth... _A truth about what? _Them? _My own aunt and uncle?

"May I ask something of you first, Aunt Rose?" I gently remove my hands from her grip and place one of them on her chest.

She looks at my hand and places one of hers on mine, squeezing it softly and whispering, "Yes?

"Who are you?" Her eyes widen at my inquiry.

"What? How do you mean?"

"Comstock, my father, before he died... He said I was misguided and mentioned a truth, a truth about you two... He wanted to tell me something important... What did he mean by a _truth, _Aunt Rose?"

"Elizabeth, dear..."

"No, tell me... Now. Please, I only want the truth. I'm not a child anymore. Please..." My eyes suddenly become warm with tears, my throat starting to tighten. I know it's coming...

She stares at me intently and says, "I only wanted what was best for you, Elizabeth. I only wanted you to be safe. It was only done in the same of protection, dear."

The tears finally escape my eyes, "It's true, isn't it...? No, no... _No."_

She slowly nods and looks down, avoiding my glare, "Yes. We are no more than scientists looking for a lab rat to experiment with, unfortunately. Comstock wanted our help, he wanted an heir, someone of his blood. And that someone was you, Elizabeth. You and only you. No one else." She then turns away and stands next to Robert. They aren't my Aunt and Uncle, they are only Comstock's slaves. They have cared for me nonetheless, but that doesn't erase the nineteen years of isolation and imprisonment. I was nothing but their _specimen _to be tested on and poked at.

At this very moment, I feel betrayed and hurt. I was lied to and taken for a fool. My youth and naivety was taken advantage of by the ones I thought I loved, the ones I thought _loved_ me. Even Songbird, who's only my captor. I'm just His hostage.

"Well, you won't be seeing us for a long while regardless, Elizabeth. After you leave here with Mr. DeWitt, don't expect us to write you. Or at least her," says Robert. I hope he doesn't expect me to laugh at that, because I definitely won't write back.

Rose doesn't dare to look at me now, so she simply says to the man that's been standing and keeping quiet the entire time, "Please go now, Mr. DeWitt, while there is still time. Songbird will be here any minute. He is programmed to keep Elizabeth away from intruders. Hurry now. Go."

"I just heard what you said to her. How am I supposed to trust you now?" Booker then aims his pistol at them.

"There is no time to be wasted, DeWitt," says Robert, not seeming to be fearful of the fact that he might be shot.

Booker sighs and holsters his weapon, muttering under his breath. I can hear him say, "This job's getting worse all the time."

I just stand there, still unsure of who I should trust at this point. I no longer trust Rose and Robert after being told the truth, but I suppose I have no choice. I have to trust the man with the gun now. And as the phrase goes, from what I've read in several novels, _"Nothing ventured, nothing gained."_

A light then suddenly flickers and I blink my eyes twice. I nearly lose my balance but a warm and sweaty hand catches my arm and pulls me back, "I gotcha," Booker says. I can't help blushing when I find myself in his grasp. Oh gosh...

"Let's go, Elizabeth. Let's get the hell out of this place." I'm speechless at the moment so I just nod. I then look around me and notice something's missing. Rose and Robert... They're... _gone. _Where are they? Where did they go? "Wait, where did those two go?" He adds and I shrug. But they were just here... How did they... How could they...

_Boom!_ _Smash! _

Damn it, He's here... Songbird!

"Oh God, He's here!"

"Who?"

"Songbird! We need to leave before He finds me! Now!"

A four-note tune plays and I can hear His loud shriek in the distance.

Booker's eyes widen at the noise, drawing His weapon once again. No bullet can match the strength of the Songbird, "Over here, Elizabeth!"

I follow him toward the door. I then notice a painting at the corner of my eye hanging from the wall above my bed. It's a painting of Paris, a painting I made myself.

Paris!

"Mr. DeWitt! Wait!"

He turns around, "What? We have to get out of here before-"

"I'll explain it all later!" I can see a small slither of light dancing across the picture. I walk to it and motion my hands outward, opening it.

It's a tear.

He raises a brow in confusion, stepping back with his mouth agape. I slowly open it as a bright flash of light nearly blinds us.

It takes us a few seconds to realize where we are now; it is revealed to us in all its grandeur and glory before our very eyes.

Oh my gosh... It's... It's... It's so...

_Beautiful! _

It's Paris... The City of Love, the City of Lights.

I can see the Effiel Tower in the distance. We stand next to a building with bright lights that read a title in French. It says, "_La Revanche du Jedi." _And a familiar song plays in the backdrop. It sounds like that song I listened to on the phonograph, but it must be a different version. And the look of Paris looks nothing like... Wait, are we in a different world? A different... _time? _

I look at Booker with a huge smile on my face. I can hear him say as his eyes stay wide in a frozen state of shock, "What the..."

"We're in... _Paris!_ Mr. DeWitt!"

"What is this place, Elizabeth? Where the hell are we?"

"Paris! Don't you love it?"

He gazes out into the far distance and his face falls, his expression changing from shock to fear in seconds, "Elizabeth... I don't think we're safe. This is not right... Elizabeth... this is a trap. Let's get out of here! Now!"

"What? Why? What can be better than this?" I follow the direction of his eyes and I see it too.

It feels like a gush of wind blowing me right off my feet, throwing me into the air. I scream when I realize I've left the ground...

I'm flying...

Oh no... Oh please no...

I'm trapped in the mighty grip of a massive creature, taking me away.

He shrieks into the air, His glass eyes turning a bright red.

Songbird.

* * *

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

**_Author's Note: _**This concludes the final chapter of "The Girl in the Tower." I apologize once again for not updating since the 26th. Been busy with homework and such. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, and I hope it wasn't rushed or poorly written. But if there were any mistakes at all, please bring them to my attention ASAP! Well, guys, this marks the end of part 1 of our story! There is more to come, though, and hopefully in the next few days! I'll start writing the sequel as soon as possible! Anyway, please share me your thoughts on this chapter and the story overall. I'd appreciate it! And don't forget to review, follow, and fav! Thank you so much for everything! Love you all! I'll see you all again soon! :)


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